Sense
by Banjodog
Summary: Thoughts of an anonymous, random person that is being held in Azkaban


Sense  
Rating:PG-13  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters are property of J.K. Rowling. I own...um...hang on...  
  
Summary: The thoughts of a person that had been condemned to Azkaban.  
  
  
****  
  
The darkness surrounds me, choking me. It closes in around me as though it were blessed with hands that were capable of crushing my lungs...my soul.   
  
What is a soul? I...I used to know, except for now...  
  
I look around, memorizing my surroundings. There are some twinges of familiarity, but they disappear as soon as they come. It is incredibly black, even if the meaning of the word fails me for a moment. I see some red lines on the...wall. Yes, that's it. Wall. Something within the back of my mind twists at the sight of the red lines, but I have no real memory of it.  
  
For some strange reason I look down at my hands, and there are several, long scars along them. I gaze back up at the red lines, but I make no connection. I am simply unable. And I have extreme difficulty realizing that fact.   
  
What was I just thinking?  
  
I stretch out my legs (I did not realize until then that I had been sitting) purely out of instinct. No coherent thought goes with the act. It feels good, but then my blankness on its meaning obliterates it into oblivion. Like the very cell I hold...  
  
This is all new to me. I have never seen this place before...yes I have. No, I haven't. Yes, I have...  
  
What?  
  
I must be cold. I shake and shiver. Why do I do that?   
  
Why is it so dark in here?  
  
I'm hearing the voices again. They dance on the outer range of my mind, teasing me and mocking me. I try to make sense of them...nothing makes sense. I see everything for the first time, and yet I have seen it all a million times before. Sense. Ha!   
  
Huh?  
  
I see a dark shape with no face go past my cell. Everything goes cold. Wasn't it before? Wait. What? I'm confused. I try to remember, fighting furiously within my own mind when the dark shape pauses outside my cell. It stops and stares at me with no eyes. Is that right? It must be, for that is what it is doing. Besides, I have forgotten what eyes are.   
  
It continues to look at me...  
  
The voices become louder and they hurt. I don't know what they are saying. I just know that they hurt. They scare me and my heart feels hard, like it stopped beating. The one thing I do remember. The beat that keeps going no matter what happens. It's the one thing that I hold onto. The steady drum like sound that never falters. It is inspiring. I wish it belonged to me...  
  
I scream, but it is as if I watch myself from very far away. Wherever that is. Images and sounds flash through my mind, images and sounds that come from that very far away place.   
  
I see green stuff growing out of the ground and big ceiling that is blue. Blue? What kind of word is that? I see things flying in the big ceiling and four legged creature animal things playing on the green stuff. I see laughter and...  
  
I am stopped short by a sudden burst of pain and I see that more hooded things had gathered around, their postures tense. They are angry. I have done something wrong. They punish me by taking away the ceiling and things that are up in the ceiling. They distort the voices in my head and make my drumming beating thing quicken.   
  
I collapse to the ground and scream, though I am not aware that I am doing it. There is stuff that hurts my ears coming out of my mouth. But I forget what it is called. I feel a wet stuff in...um...it blurs my vision of the blackness. Eyes. The thought disappears like all of the other ones. Come back! Please? I can't remember anything. I feel bad. I am sick. Yes. That is bad. The hooded things leave, as I can't see anything in my head. I am lying on the floor, my hands around my head. I remain like that a long time. Maybe a full second. Seconds are awfully long, I remember that. Don't I? Maybe it was something else. What was I just thinking?   
  
What is my name? The thought suddenly pops into my head, and it does not go away as quickly as the others do. It lingers like a whisper of smoke, dancing. It prefers to mock me, for I genuinely do not know. Names. It sounds so important, but I cannot figure out why. It holds significance, but why? I let out a scream of frustration. One thought lays with the name. It talks of bad things. It talks of treachery and death. It talks of freedom. I shudder at the thought. The freedom is a cage. It will kill me. I am safe here. Yes, I am safe here because the freedom speaks of corruption, loss of innocence. The freedom is the murderer, the assassin of Sense. My Sense. Backwards. No, it's not. Right? North. No, that's not the opposite. Hand. Stop it! Walking. No! I just want the opposite! Freedom. Go AWAY!  
  
I crawl across the room to the bars to get away from the freedom. The freedom is bad. It hurts me. I hear screaming. It is not mine. I see another being...I cringe, waiting for the voices again, and the frost, but...the being has no hood. I cock my head, curious. I have never seen one without a hood. It has a head and stuff growing out of the top of it. It is strange looking. I see a horizontal slit in the face where sounds are coming out of it. I see others like it forcing it down past other rooms. It is beautiful. Familiar...I wish I could be one. I wish I could make sounds like it. I want to touch it...it struggles...representing something that is long since dead. Such thoughts are treachery, and they are soon banished. I wonder if it is me doing the banishing...I forget. The thing passes me, yelling something to not forget. I am intrigued. NO FORGET. I struggle to understand, but I do not know.   
  
"REMEMBER WHY YOU ARE HERE!" the thing shrieks. I cover my head. My drumming thing is going really fast. The voice hurts. Too much. I think the hooded things are back. But they are not. I wonder at the thing. Here? There is no where else. Except very far away. It does not make sense.   
  
The thing goes away and I forget about it. I fall sad, but I don't know why. I go back to the elevated soft thing that I lose myself on. I feel the moistness again. I am confused and I don't know why.   
  
Someone has died.   
  
Who? What is death? Is he my friend? I think he is. I want to see him. I hear he is kind to us. I used to have a friend. Friend? What?   
  
Sense is dead. Nothing makes Sense. My drummer thing is steady again. Heart. I take advantage and hold onto that word. Heart. Heart. Heart. Heart. Heart. Heart. Heart. Heart. Heart. Heart. I will never let it go. Heart. It is my anchor. Heart. Hope. Heart. Heart. Heart. Heart. Never shall I for...what was I just thinking?   



End file.
